Dear Old Bitch: Next Time I Will Fight You

So this weekend, I decided it would be a good idea to take my elderly grandmother and her friend to a music festival in Old Town Pasadena where there’s no street parking, no valet, and neither of them can really walk anymore. Because I’m a genius. Also, I forgot to take pictures, so the whole thing was a complete and total waste.

Let's just assume that this is what everybody looked like that day.

In my own defense, I had no idea that there was a music festival going on. My grammar school best friend April Michelle and I planned a reunion, and since grandma and Lomie know her too, they were invited as well. I had innocently picked a restaurant in Pasadena (where everybody but me lives), that’s good for kids (April Michelle has kids), and didn’t think another thought about it until I was fighting through traffic just to drop grandma and Lomie off in front of the place, which lead to the encounter with the Terrible Old Bitch.

I had pulled up to the fire lane in front of the restaurant, grandma’s handicap placard clearly hanging from my rear view mirror, and as I was going around from the back of the car to the passenger side with grandma’s walker (obvious old person cred right there), this bitch in a dark red Camry started laying on the horn. I expected an angry douchebag in a cheap polyester suit jacket, but instead when I looked up I saw a tiny, ancient lady seething and punching the steering wheel, staring daggers at my grandma as she sat in the passenger seat waiting for her walker, which I couldn’t give her because this Camry was in the way.

Things I should have yelled at this elderly dickbag:

  • Where the fuck are you going? If you’re trying to escape the bony finger of death, it’s not working!
  • This is why your children never call you!
  • The early bird special doesn’t start for another hour, you cunt!
  • Shouldn’t someone this close to the end of their life be trying to get into Heaven?
  • You’re going to die alone!
  • I could have hit her car with my grandma’s walker (tennis balls first, of course)
  • You smell like cat litter from here!
  • Just because all your friends are dead doesn’t mean you can be mean to everybody you meet!
  • I hope your Social Security check gets lost in the mail!
  • If we ever do get nationalized healthcare, I’m nominating you for the death panel!
  • What’s wrong with you? You gotta seed under your dentures or something?
  • Is it time for your nap?!
  • Hey, no one honks at my grandma, you bitch!

WTF face
But, I did none of those things. Instead, I just stood there making the WTF face 2 feet from her head (I seriously could have reached out, opened her door and smacked her with both sides of my hand like a pimp if I wanted) and she sat in her car and stared straight ahead like I wasn’t standing there making WTF face at her while she waited to merge into the other lane and drive around my open passenger side door. Then, I waited a full five seconds after she drove away to say loudly, and to no one “Well, someone’s old and bitchy.” Lomie agreed.

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